


Wait for the Sequel

by beachpartybb



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M, Pacific Rim AU, Pacific Rim Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:44:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beachpartybb/pseuds/beachpartybb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt on Pacific Rim kink meme: "Raleigh is a tough book critic who just gave Chuck's latest book five stars. While browsing at a bookshop, Raleigh gets into a verbal altercation with Chuck, not knowing that he's the same person who wrote his new favourite book."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait for the Sequel

"Chuck Hansen burst onto the literary scene with the most acclaimed debut novel of the decade. At 21 years old, Mr. Hansen is one of the youngest authors ever to garner the prestigious--"  
  
Click.  
  
"Mr. Hansen--"  
"Please, call me Chuck."  
"Chuck, haha, well, we're all wondering, how has your life changed since your book was-- um, since your book was--"  
"Are you nervous, love?"  
(Audience laughs)  
"You're not at all what I pictured, Mr. Hansen."  
"Chuck."  
"Chuck."  
  
"I slept with her, you know," Chuck said to the bulldog at his side. Max regarded him morosely, then licked his nose and settled his head on his paws.  
  
Click.  
  
The television went dead.  
  
"Who haven't you slept with, Mr. Hansen?" Chuck sighed, head lolling back against the couch.  
  
"I was watching that, thank you."  
  
Sharp heels clicked across the parquet floor of Chuck's over-priced apartment. Mako Mori, Chuck's over-priced literary agent, rounded the couch and stopped in front of him, small fists planted on her hips.   
  
"Too much self-adulation, Mr. Hansen, can result in undeserved arrogance." Chuck grinned rakishly at her.  
  
"What part is undeserved?"  
  
Mako eyed him, unimpressed by his three-day shirt and artfully mussed hair. He dimpled even harder at her, infusing every ounce of charm into his smile. Mako raised an eyebrow.  
  
"You've grown a beard, Mr. Hansen."  
  
"Call me Chuck."  
  
"You need to shower and shave. You have a book signing this afternoon and a reception at Mr. Pentecost's this evening."  
  
Chuck fingered his chin, scratching at his beard. "You don't like it? I think it makes me look dangerous. Like a gypsy or something." Mako made no move but Chuck had the distinct impression that she had crossed her arms and was tapping her foot. He grinned again.   
  
"I'll shower. But I'm keeping the beard."  


* * *

  
  
Yancy Becket squinted at the afternoon sun streaming through the windows of The Strand, scowling at the unrepentant source-of-all-life as it poured down from on high, blinding and scorching the mortals below.  
  
"Tell me again why I'm out during the day? Aside from the temperate climate and truly pleasant aroma." He sipped at a shitty latte -- they'd scorched the milk and besides, he hated fancy coffee -- and watched his brother chew his bottom lip.   
  
"What's up Raleigh? You've never invited me to a--a book signing. Hell, I don't think you've ever even  _been_  to a book signing. Isn't that against your code or something? Don't you have to stay, like, Sweden?"  
  
"Switzerland," Raleigh corrected him absently, scanning the growing crowd in and around the bookstore. A pretty girl with ruby lipstick and a Strand apron appeared at his elbow.   
  
"Excuse me," she said, blushing a little. "Aren't you Raleigh Becket?" Raleigh ignored her, gnawing at his lip. Yancy glanced from his brother to the shop girl.  
  
"He is. I'm his handsome older brother, Yancy."  
  
"Like, the critic?" she said, eyes glued on Raleigh. Raleigh stared obliviously out the window. Yancy swallowed another mouthful of terrible latte and gestured at his brother's back.  
  
"The one and only." The girl glanced at Yancy and scowled.  
  
"You can't bring outside food or drink in here," she said, snagging a trash bin from under a table and holding it out to him. Yancy stared at her. She stared back, stone-faced.  
  
"Tasted like shit, anyway," Yancy said tossing it in the trash. The girl managed to look both less interested and more antagonistic as she kicked the trashcan back under a table and walked away.   
  
"Why are we here, Raleigh?" Raleigh sighed, running his hands through his cropped blonde hair, and turned toward his brother.   
  
"You wanna get a drink?"  
  
"It's 3:30 in the afternoon," Yancy said incredulously.   
  
"There's a bar across the street." Raleigh forced himself to turn loose of his lip. "One drink, bro."  
  
"Yeah, all right. Just, I wanna pick up some books. I think that librarian chick was kinda into me."

 

* * *

 

Two pulp fiction novels, an Oprah book club selection from last year, a copy of Chuck Hansen's  _Striker Eureka_  and four whiskeys later, Yancy was still trying to piece the story together.   
  
"Ok," he said slowly. "So this kid wrote a book, and it was like, good."  
  
" _Really_  good," Raleigh said, only a little slurred. "I called it the best debut of the decade."  
  
"Right," Yancy said. "So you reviewed it and... what? Now you want to meet the author? Can't you do one of those boring book parties? Why are we lurking at a book signing at The Sand like a bunch of groupies?"  
  
"The Strand. It's a small space, more intimate setting, can observe him better."  
  
"Are you... are you stalking him, bro? Do you have a crush on this kid?" Raleigh put his face in his hands and groaned. Yancy caught the bartender's eye and signaled for another round. She raised her cheeks in a cheap imitation smile and pulled two glasses from beneath the bar.  
  
"'s not like that. It's this book, Yance, it's... it's  _brilliant_. I  _liked_  it." Raleigh looked at his brother, stricken. "I haven't liked a book in five years. Five  _years_ , Yance." Their whiskey arrived then and Raleigh lapsed into silence.  
  
The door chimed as another mid-afternoon drinker came in and sat at the bar. Yancy glanced up, got a vague impression of some hipster asshole in sunglasses, turned back to Raleigh, moping over his whiskey.  
  
"Come on, Ral, it's just one of those... a talent crush. Right? He's a good writer--"  
  
The bartender came over, swiping a rag over the scarred bar top.  
  
"What'll you have?"   
  
"Scotch." The kid slid into a stool one seat over from Yancy, one leg on the chair rung, arm slung casually across the back of the stool. He glanced at the books stacked on the bar next to Yancy and let out a small laugh.  
  
"That's a nice selection you've got there, mate," he said.  
  
"Thanks," Yancy said flatly.  
  
"Are these... romance novels? Did your girlfriend pick these out?"  
  
Raleigh leant forward around his brother and stared at the kid.   
  
"I picked them out."  
  
The kid pulled his sunglasses down and peered at Raleigh over the top, giving him an obvious once over.  
  
"I just bet you did," the kid drawled.  
  
Raleigh pushed to his feet and stepped around Yancy. "What's that supposed to mean?"   
  
Sunglasses back up, Scotch in hand, the other man grinned up at Yancy, a dimple showing beneath the metal frame of his glasses.   
  
"Those choices seem very fitting, that's all."  
  
"You smug little fuck," Raleigh said. The kid sipped his Scotch, making a flourish as he accepted the label. Raleigh scoffed, turning away.  
  
"I wouldn't expect a dilettante to understand the first thing about art, anyway."   
  
Raleigh met Yancy's eyes.  
  
"Oh, shit," Yancy said. Raleigh came around swinging.  
  
The kid went down but he rolled up from the ground, catching Raleigh around the middle and slamming him back against the bar. Yancy was on his feet, grabbing for Raleigh.   
  
"Hey! Take that shit outside!" the bartender shouted.   
  
"I'm working on it!" Yancy grunted, prying his brother's hands off the kid's throat. To his credit, the kid got an elbow in, taking Raleigh in the ribs. By the time Yancy got them apart, the kid's eye was red and shaping up to be quite a shiner and Raleigh was streaming blood from his nose and a split lip.  
  
Yancy was between them, arms outstretched, when the Japanese woman burst into the bar. The stare she leveled on the kid would have frozen hotter blood than theirs.   
  
"Outside," she bit out. The kid wiped a hand across his mouth and started to speak. "Get. In. The car." The boy scowled, picked up his shattered glasses from the floor. He glared at Raleigh, downed the rest of his Scotch and shouldered his way out the door.  
  
The woman inclined her head sharply toward Yancy and Raleigh.  
  
"Gentlemen. I apologize on behalf of Mr. Hansen for any inconvenience." She turned on an expensive heel and left, door swinging silently shut behind her.  
  
Raleigh turned sharply to Yancy.  
  
"On behalf of  _whom_?"

* * *

 

In the end, Chuck shaved the beard. As Mako pointed out, a black eye was dangerous or a beard was dangerous, but together it was convicted felon. By the time they got back to his apartment a matched pair of cosmeticians had set up shop in his bathroom. After he was shaved and his hair artfully mussed, one of them began applying careful layers of foundation to his bruise. A knock at the door, his suit for the evening.   
  
Mako appeared in the door, wearing a dress that walked the line between professional and alluring. The girl patted over her work with a veil of powder. She snapped the compact closed and began to pack her things. Mako handed him a garment bag.  
  
"Get dressed, Mr. Hansen. We're leaving in 30 minutes." Chuck grinned, then winced at his sore jaw. Mako tightened her lips into a tiny moue of disapproval and ushered the makeup artist out of the bathroom, closing the door behind them both.  
  
Chuck swirled a mouthful of Scotch. Then he put on his suit.  


* * *

  
  
Raleigh's mid-afternoon drunk had turned into an ache behind his eyes and a queasy stomach but he knew better than to skip one of Stacker's parties. So he sat at the kitchen island, listening to a sharp voiced woman recount a story about something someone cared about, he was sure, well, he hoped, sipping a really excellent ginger ale and thinking about that old adage, never meet your heroes or something, and wondering if it applied.  
  
"What happened to your face, man?"   
  
Raleigh turned, breaking into a grin. "Tendo! I didn't know you were in town!"  
  
"Came in for that thing at the Met next week. Who busted your face?"  
  
Raleigh sucked his lip into his mouth. The background noise was kicking up as more people streamed into Stacker's loft. He laughed softly.   
  
"You should see the other guy," he said, draining the last of his ginger ale and dropping the glass on a passing waiter's tray.   
  
"Is that him?" Tendo asked, leaning forward on his elbows and peering around Raleigh. Raleigh turned and met the incredulous gaze of Chuck Hansen. The swelling had come up around his eye and nose but the bruises looked several days old already. His hair was messy, brushed back like he'd been running his fingers through it. His right hand was wrapped around a tumbler of Scotch, knuckles raw, his left tucked into the pocket of trousers closely tailored to his -- really magnificent -- thighs.   
  
Raleigh stared back at him, conscious of his own split lip and swollen nose, of a bar-shaped bruise across his back, the bandaged cuts on his own knuckles. He swallowed, wishing he still had a drink to busy his hands. Tendo moved around him, glancing between the two of them.   
  
"Raleigh," he said, voice pitched low, "Did you get in a fist fight with Chuck Hansen?"  
  
"Yes," Raleigh grit out, watching as Chuck began weaving through the crowd, ignoring the people who clamored for his attention, eyes burning and dark.   
  
" _Striker Eureka_  Chuck Hansen? To whom you wrote the most effusive praise in your review in the Times last week?"  
  
"I didn't know it was him," Raleigh said helplessly. "Yancy had to pull me off the guy. He had a beard." Chuck had reached the kitchen by then and kept coming, right into Raleigh's personal face.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Chuck said from between gritted teeth. "How the  _hell_  are you at this party right now?" Raleigh saw that his eyes were actually blue, or green? The lighting was playing tricks on him. Tendo stuck out his hand to Chuck.  
  
"How are you, Hansen? I didn't realize you'd taken up residence in New York. How's publicity going?" Chuck glanced at him for the first time.  
  
"Tendo? Do you know this asshole?"  
  
"Ah, well, that's a funny story--"  
  
"You know," Raleigh broke in, "you're taller than I thought. Broader. Also, you're an arrogant little bastard."  
  
"Come again, old man? And you're, what, some washed-up, former best seller has-been, peddling your latest release to the airport crowd and worrying about how many views your book trailer has on YouTube?" Raleigh growled, low in his throat, wrapping the fingers of one hand in Chuck's beautiful lapel.  
  
"You gonna hit me again?" Chuck seemed almost gleeful. "Do it. Put your hands on me again." Raleigh's cock jumped at Chuck's words and he drew the other man closer.

"Hey, man," Tendo said, hand on Raleigh's back. Raleigh swallowed, hard, eyes locked with Chuck's. They were both breathing hard. Raleigh forced his fingers to unclench, smoothing the fabric of Chuck's suit against the other man's chest. He stepped back, straightening his collar. His cheeks were flushed and he could feel warmth pooling in his belly as he desperately wished away the inconvenient erection forming in his pants.  
  
Chuck laughed a little breathlessly, his own color high, and knocked back his Scotch. He put the glass down carefully on the island countertop, never breaking eye contact with Raleigh. Raleigh could smell the Scotch on his breath and see the faint glassiness in his eyes that told him this was not Chuck's first drink of the night. Chuck took a step in, his face too close to Raleigh's, and leant across him to grab an hors d'oeuvre from a tray on the counter. His thigh brushed Raleigh's half-hard cock and he pressed forward, jiggling his leg slightly against the growing bulge.   
  
Raleigh met Tendo's wide eyes and flushed with embarrassment. Tendo gave him a wide smile and a thumbs up and disappeared into the press of people. Beside him, Chuck laughed at something the sharp-voiced woman said -- he had a nice laugh, kind of low and velvety and arousing -- and pressed his thigh hard into Raleigh's crotch. Raleigh jerked to his feet, the legs of his chair screeching across the imported tile. The little group at the island turned to look at him, surprised. Chuck pressed a tiny pastry into his mouth, tongue licking out to catch an invisible crumb at the corner of his mouth.   
  
"Raleigh," someone said, "Are you all right? You look flushed."  
  
"Just gonna get some air," he said, rushing away.  
  
Chuck smiled after him, then frowned. He choked down the remainder of the pastry and turned toward the person who'd spoken.  
  
"Raleigh?" he asked, incredulously. "Raleigh  _Becket_?"

 

* * *

 

The guest bathroom at Stacker's apartment was as elegantly appointed as the rest of the decor. Raleigh splashed water on his face, rubbing a damp hand over the back of his neck. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked horrible -- hair on end, bruises stark against his skin, split lip raw and angry. He palmed his cock through his pants and bit back a moan.   
  
There was nothing for it. If he wanted out of this bathroom any time soon, he had to take care of it now. He'd barely slipped his pants past his hips when someone banged on the door.  
  
"Just a minute!" he called, frantically stuffing his cock back in his pants. "Just one second!"  
  
"Rah-leigh," in that distinctive Australian drawl. "Let me in, mate. I want to apologize." Raleigh let out a strangled sound. On the other side of the door, he heard Chuck draw closer, until it sounded like his mouth was pressed to the door frame. His voice came seeping through the door, soft and smooth, like syrup.  
  
"Are you touching yourself, Raleigh? Is your cock out, right now?" Raleigh bit back a whimper, pressing forward into his own cupped palm. "Are you thinking about me, Mr. Becket?" Raleigh did whimper then, just the barest whisper of sound pushed from his lungs.  
  
Chuck's voice changed, became deeper and more commanding.  
  
"Let me in, Raleigh." Raleigh shuddered helplessly, reaching over and flicking the lock open. Chuck opened the door a sliver and slid around it, closing it behind him and locking it. Raleigh stared at him, cock jutting out of his undone pants, leaking from the tip.   
  
"I want to be clear," Chuck said, advancing on him. "I was going to do this before I found out who you were." And he dropped to his knees, tugging Raleigh's trousers down around his ankles and pushing him gently back against the counter.   
  
He slipped his lips over the head of Raleigh's penis, cheeks hollowing as he bobbed his head, suction pulling little stuttering jerks from Raleigh's hips as he thrust forward into Chuck's mouth. Raleigh sagged back against the sink, fingers drifting down to find Chuck's hair. He pulled, experimentally, and Chuck moaned around his cock. He jerked sharply and moved his hips a little more aggressively. Chuck fumbled at his own pants with one hand, belt, button, fly giving way until he had his dick out and was thrusting up into his own fist.   
  
He looked up at Raleigh, pupils blown wide, and swallowed him down until Raleigh felt the tip of his penis brush Chuck's throat. Chuck swallowed once, twice, around him and Raleigh's eyes rolled back in his head as he came. Chuck sucked him through it, licking the last of the come from Raleigh's cock, even as his hand flew on his own. Raleigh sank down to the floor, batting Chuck's hand away and wrapping his own hand around Chuck's leaking cock. In two more strokes, Chuck was over the edge, white streaks of come marking the front of his pants and pooling on his belly. Raleigh grinned wickedly and bent to lap at his stomach. Chuck shuddered, another pulse of come oozing from his mostly spent penis.  
  
"I can't wait," Chuck said, a little breathless, "to read your review of this." Raleigh grinned, raising his head. He had a smear of come on his mouth.  
  
"I think I'll call it 'rapturous' or 'transportive'..." Chuck leant forward, catching Raleigh's mouth in a clumsy kiss. After a moment, their lips aligned, and Raleigh shuddered as Chuck bit down on his split lip.  
  
"Better wait for the sequel," Chuck murmured. "I think you'll find it has more depth."


End file.
